


Derek from Tinder

by Anzieizna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Cancelled Flight, First Meetings, M/M, One-Shot, Stiles Is Flustered, Tinder, Writing Prompt, airport, dating apps, delayed flight, mentioned briefly: lydia and scott and erica (like once), prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anzieizna/pseuds/Anzieizna
Summary: Stiles continued to mess with his phone when suddenly Leather Jacket Dude said, “so hard no on that guy, huh?”Stiles’ brows furrowed, and he frowned as he turned around. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, man—”And froze.Because Leather Jacket Dude, the guy in front of him, the guy looking half-amused yet also half-nervous and weirdly all-around endearing – that Leather Jacket Dude was Derek. From Tinder.Derek. From Tinder. Holy fucking shit!--- OR: ---Stiles, stuck in an airport, decides to go on Tinder whilst he waits for his flight. Turns out the guy he just swiped left on? Yeah, he's right next to him.Awkward.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 28
Kudos: 729





	Derek from Tinder

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by this prompt, which sounded super cute! https://crayyytown.tumblr.com/post/183845148310/ugh-the-sterek-story-of-my-dreams-you-know-the
> 
> Hopefully I did this one justice and it isn't too bad. Enjoy!

Flight delays _sucked_.

Stiles, as a self-proclaimed experienced airplane user, could say this with certainty.

Several times a year, for holidays and birthdays and whatnot, he flew from New York where he studied at university – great city, a bit cold – to his hometown of Beacon Hills, California. And through the years he’d gotten used to flights in general. The crowdedness, the loud babies, the magazines that were always covered in a sticky liquid and _something else_.

And sure, one of the things he’d gotten used to was flight delays. He no longer panicked about being unable to get home, about being stranded in an airport and never seeing his father again. He’d had his fair share of flight delays.

But come _on._ Seriously, universe? What had Stiles done to piss it off so much?! He just wanted to go home! He just wanted to see his dad! Why did you the universe hate him so much?!

He watched on, scowling, as everyone at the gate sat up, moaning and groaning, dragging their luggage behind them as they left to find the toilets or the giftshops or maybe a train to throw themselves under.

Stiles was kind of partial to that last option. It sounded better than sitting in this damn airport for another two hours.

He sighed, moving away from the crowd to lean against one of the big windows. He was hoping the sight of nature – or as much nature as you could find in an airport – would calm him down, but instead he was subjected to watching as a plane left for the sky outside. Stiles glared. If looks could kill, he was pretty sure that plane would be fuming right now.

A few other people followed his lead, settling beside him with their countless bags and loud children. On his left, a mother with three kids who seemed determined to deafen everyone in the airport. On his right, a scruffy dude in a leather jacket buried deep in his phone.

As much as he disapproved of the dude’s style choices – who wore a leather jacket to the airport? Seriously? – the idea seemed like a good one, so he pulled out his phone, figuring he would kill time while he was at it.

He had a few notifications that he absently sorted through, new Instagram and YouTube notifications that didn’t take much thought to scroll through. His dad had also texted him, asking whether he should pick him or up or hire a taxi, and Stiles sighed heavily as he replied, _‘flight delayed by two hours. sorry dad. don’t use this as an excuse to eat fatty foods, though!!!’_

After his dad, he replied to a few texts from his friends. One was his university bestie Lydia, informing him not to forget to pick up that expensive bottle of cologne she’d ordered for her boyfriend, which was apparently only available in California and _“extremely exclusive, Stiles, don’t forget it!”_ The second was Erica, a colleague from the diner he worked at, sending him pictures of the new house she’d just bought with her beau. And, of course, lastly was Scott, best friend since diapers, who’d sent him ten pictures alone of the new puppy he and his girlfriend had adopted.

Ugh. All these texts just reminded Stiles of how pathetically single he was. Sure, he could have one-night-stands whenever he wanted – actually did, last week – but sex wasn’t the same as having a boyfriend. Like, what’s a gay guy gotta do to get some relationship-material dick?

All of his friends were getting married, or moving in together, or getting _dogs_ together. Stiles wanted that! Stiles wanted a big hunk to cuddle up with, to make coffee for in the morning, to comfort him when he had a bad day at school.

But, alas, none of that had happened yet. Stiles was eternally single.

Man, being single _sucked_.

Almost as much as flight delays.

Actually, on second thought, no – flight delays were still a wicked evil far, far above being single.

With that thought, Stiles pulled up Tinder on his phone. It wasn’t exactly his idea of a modern day romance, seemed pretty boring actually, but Lydia had insisted after hearing him whine for half an hour. Which, yeah, fair. That was fair.

Still, though, a dating app? As if that would work. Most of the guys on Tinder were pretty boring. Shirtless pic after shirtless pic, bad pickup lines in their bios, creepily old. At this point, Stiles swiped left on instinct, because there was no way he was meeting his Prince Charming on Tinder. God, that would be a story for the grandkids:

“Hey, grandpa, how did you meet granddad?”

“Well, kids, I saw a shirtless picture of your granddad on the internet, double tapped, he sent me a dickpic, and boom! True love!”

Honestly, Stiles mostly did it to humour Lydia. He’d long since given up on not dying a lonely spinster, but _she_ didn’t need to know that, so he just appreciated the hairy chests and swiped by.

Stiles was mindlessly scrolling just like this, staring at the pictures halfheartedly, when one made him pause. It was a guy standing in front of some trees, a big sunny smile and eyes that looked somewhere between brown and rainbow. He had a sharp jawline, thick eyebrows, and stubble that Stiles would love to feel between his legs. He was leaning against the tree casually, his brow slightly sweaty as if he’d been doing some exercise, and his muscles pulled a thin shirt tight across his shoulders.

Looking through a few of his other pictures, the guy – Derek, according to his profile – seemed to be an avid lover of the outdoors. One picture was of Derek hiking, a big smile plastered onto his face and a bandanna wrapped around his hair. Another one featured Derek fishing, looking into the lake with an absent smile and thoughtful eyes. Then it was Derek rock climbing, his brows furrowed in concentration, not even a hint of fear in his eyes. The final one had Derek mid-laugh in a forest, head thrown back, arms wrapped around to two women on his side who were laughing just as much as him.

Stiles sighed dreamily. _This_ , he thought, _this is the type of guy I would want to be with_.

And with that thought, Stiles swiped left.

Because – don’t get him wrong, okay? This Derek guy was gorgeous as hell. Seriously, if Stiles met him in real life he doubted he’d be able to resist immediately climbing him like a tree. If Stiles saw him across the street, he’d jump over traffic and children alike for even a _chance_ of getting his number.

But, unfortunately, the pictures painted a pretty clear picture of Derek. A hot, young man who loved the outdoors and thrived on activity.

Which was such a shame, because Stiles? Yeah, Stiles wasn’t exactly the most fit guy around.

Like, sure, he loved hikes. But only after his dad had bullied him into it for an hour straight.

Fishing? He’d tried once and almost jumped into the water when the fifth mosquito bit him.

And don’t even get him _started_ on rock climbing! Stiles got queasy looking down from his apartment window, and he was only on the fourth floor. The human body wasn’t made to be that high! He was perfectly happy on the ground, thank you very much.

Derek was drop dead gorgeous, with adorable bunny teeth and bright eyes and the aforementioned stubble that Stiles would _really_ love to get to know well. In any other scenario, Stiles would lay down his infamous “Stilinski charm” that was _absolutely a thing, shut up, Scott!_ and somehow – magically – convince this Derek guy to give him the time of day.

But, unfortunately, it was clear Derek was not only out of his league, but also far too active for him. He’d probably be disappointed that Stiles didn’t work out as much as him. He’d probably laugh at him, point to Stiles’ flabby gut, and say, _‘come talk to me again when you’ve got an eighteen pack.’_

If those existed. Stiles was pretty sure they did.

So, with a longing sigh, he swiped left and returned to his mindless scrolling. From the corner of his eye, he could see Leather Jacket Dude start to fidget, then snort. Stiles waited for him to say something, but evidently the dude decided that whatever he wanted to say wasn’t worth it.

Stiles continued to mess with his phone when suddenly Leather Jacket Dude said, “so hard no on that guy, huh?”

Stiles’ brows furrowed, and he frowned as he turned around. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, man—”

And froze.

Because Leather Jacket Dude, the guy in front of him, the guy looking half-amused yet also half-nervous and weirdly all-around endearing – that Leather Jacket Dude was Derek. From Tinder.

_Derek. From Tinder. Holy fucking shit!_

Stiles stared for a moment, blinking owlishly, finding himself at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed like a fish, no sound coming out, until all of a sudden a load of word-vomit began to pour out. Because of course it did.

“Uhh. That’s not. I mean, I didn’t – I – what I meant was. _Uhhh._ It’s not – oh, _man_."

The dude – _Derek from Tinder, whaaat?!_ – just laughed quietly. Damn did he have a nice laugh. Actually, Stiles noted, he had a nice everything. Face, head, chest, arms, legs – _woah, eyes up here, little Stiles, do_ not _get distracted_.

Stiles stupidly stared for a little longer whilst Derek looked down at his feet. “Not your type, then?”

“No!” Stiles said quickly, then cursed himself. “I mean yes! I mean – dammit, I’m really bad at this.” He groaned into his hands, looking up sheepishly to see Derek watching him with a light behind his eyes. Yeah, he was definitely laughing at him.

“You _are_ my type. Very much my type. I like,” he waved a hand in Derek’s direction, “all of this. Very much. Yes.”

“But… you swiped left?”

Stiles winced. “Well, I. I did do that, yes. But that wasn’t because I don’t think you’re attractive – I do, you’re, like, really hot.”

Stiles stopped his rambling, sighing again, but Derek just sent him an amused look. “I kind of noticed,” he said, referring to the fact that Stiles just _could not shut up, holy crap, why universe, why?!_

“I did like you,” Stiles said. “But. You’re, like, really active. I mean, every picture was of you outside doing super physical things. And I’m kind of the opposite?” He frowned. “I think the last time I jogged was to get a bag of Doritos from the kitchen.”

Amazingly, Derek laughed at that, and Stiles made a mental note to himself to get Derek to do that again. You know, if he hadn’t messed up beyond belief yet.

Derek looked kind of embarrassed, even blushing a bit, and said, “I’m not actually _that_ active.” At Stiles’ confused look, he added, “my sisters set up that account. Apparently, those were the only photos they could find where I was smiling. I’m not actually a gym rat. Well, not too much of one.”

Stiles’ shoulders dropped in relief and he waved his phone around. “Were they the girls in that hiking photo?”

Derek nodded. “Yeah, Laura was the one with the longer hair. She’s the eldest in the family. Cora, the short-haired one, is the baby of the family.”

Stiles grinned. “What, d’you have a brother called _Erik_ too?”

He laughed, tucking his head into his chest and Stiles’ heart _soared_. “No, thankfully. I think my mom just got the good drugs when Cora was born.”

“I can relate to that,” Stiles nodded. “My real name is atrocious.”

“And what is your name, exactly?”

It hit Stiles with a jolt, that he hadn’t introduced himself yet, and a bright blush travelled up his body. “Stiles,” he said quickly. “Stiles Stilinski. But my real name is a Polish mess, so I go by Stiles.”

“Derek Hale,” Derek said, then narrowed his eyes. “Wait, Stilinski? You wouldn’t happen to be going to Beacon Hills, would you?”

Stiles’ brows rose. “Uh, yeah?” He was looking Derek up and down, thinking about how disappointing it would be if this god-like Adonis ended up being a stalker, when a light bulb went off in his head and he gasped. “Hold on, Hale? As in the Beacon Hills Hales? Like Mayor Talia Hale?”

“Yeah!” Derek grinned. “And you’re the sheriff’s kid, right?”

“Small world.” Stiles smiled, getting caught in in staring at Derek for a bit, before clearing his throat and looking away. “Shame that the plane got delayed.”

“Well,” Derek said slyly, “one good thing came out of it.”

It took Stiles an embarrassingly long time to realise what he meant, but eventually he flushed pink and smiled largely. Now it was his turn to stare at the ground, trying to will his blush away. It didn’t work.

He heard Derek laugh, the man even leaning in just close enough to brush their shoulders, and Stiles was _not_ a Victorian maiden, okay? He was a big, 21st Century boy. He literally had sex last week, for God’s sake!

And yet the touch, such a simple, _barely-a-touch_ touch, made butterflies appear in Stiles’ stomach. Like. Wow.

Something brushed against his hand and his eyes snapped up, meeting Derek’s kind smile. “I think I saw a coffee shop back there,” he pointed into the distance. “Would you, uh, would you want to join me?”

Seeing Derek flustered made _Stiles_ flustered, which made no sense, really, but whatever. He asked, “it doesn’t bother you that I’m not super active and obsessed with protein powder?”

Derek laughed, then sent him another look, one much softer and more honest. “No, not really. I actually quite like what I see.”

Stiles had to resist the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Sure. Not like we don’t have two extra hours to kill anyway,” he said as casually as possible, because he’s gotta play it _cool_ now.

Whether that actually worked or not, he couldn’t really tell, but Derek just laughed and pulled him along to the coffee shop.

As they walked, a tiny voice in Stiles’ head told him that, maybe, for once, flight delays weren’t too bad.

He quieted that voice rather quickly, because even if it led him to meet what was surely the love of his life, flight delays still _sucked_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please make sure to leave a comment or a kudos! They're very helpful and encouraging for all artists, but for me particularly because I'm self-centred lol


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